


sojourn

by TheDescension



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: But they get their happy ending, Canon Compliant (ish?) through TLoK, Character Death, F/M, Only because it starts at the very end, Reverse Chronology, Star crossed lovers? Almost lovers?, Time Skips, Well... beginning because reverse chronology, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25527292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDescension/pseuds/TheDescension
Summary: It's a strange fate that they have crafted for themselves; lines that don't quite meet, stars that circle each other, and stories that are almost written. (Or, glimpses into Zuko and Katara's lives, told in reverse, from the very end to the very beginning.)Written for Zutara Week 2020.
Relationships: Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 88
Kudos: 135
Collections: Zutara Week 2020





	1. 183 AG: Reunion

Lord Zuko breathes his last at ninety-nine.

It doesn't end the way he expects it to; he _feels_ himself leaving his own body, rising and rising, till he sees his daughter hunched over what he's sure are his mortal remains in his favorite room at his Ember Island residence.

There's a waterbender in the room too, and a smile ghosts up his face as Kya strengthens the grasp on his daughter's back, whispering words that his ears fail to pick up.

The world is in good hands. His country is in good hands. He has lived a long and happy life—

"Fire Lord."

He turns around sharply at that voice, the teasing lilt something he'd recognize anywhere.

Even in the afterlife, as it seems. Afterlife, or whatever this is going to be.

(He realizes that movement doesn't jar his muscles, and it almost comes effortlessly to him. Death doesn't feel too bad.)

The world falls to pieces around him, Izumi disappears, followed by Kya, and then the whole of Ember Island.

He blinks, and when he opens his eyes, he has somehow impossibly shot through time, backwards and only backwards, and stands in the midst of rubble and wreckage, in the aftermath of the Agni Kai that almost took his life.

There's no one around though, only vast emptiness, till: "Oh spirits, finally."

Zuko turns around again, in pursuit of the same lilt, fully expecting to find nothing this time around as well.

But.

 _But_ this time is different.

There is something.

There is _someone_.

"Katara." His voice comes out feeble, fighting desperately against the way his own throat constricts.

She flashes him a toothy grin, blue eyes coming alive, as she takes a step closer to him.

He blinks at her, mind struggling to adjust to this new reality. _Is this_ _even_ _real?_

The apprehension on his face apparently doesn't go unnoticed by her. "It really is me, Zuko," she huffs. "Don't tell me you've forgotten what I look like in a few years."

Something lifts off his shoulders at that, a heaviness he didn't know he had been carrying, and laughter bubbles out of him. He reaches out, crosses the little distance that exists between them, and pulls her into his arms.

(He doesn't even remember what it was like to have protesting muscles. He might like death, after all.)

She smells like saltwater, and battles lost, and battles won. Her arms come around his sides, holds him in place with reassuring strength. He relaxes, heartbeat steadying, the world blinking out of existence around him; it's only him, and her, and him and her.

He doesn't want to let go, never wants to let go, doesn't know how to—

She pulls back slowly, eyes meeting his, far too many unspoken words in the space between them, as her fingers entangle with his.

"Fire Lord—"

"I'm no longer the Fire Lord," he cuts her off immediately, mouth curving into a small frown.

She bumps her shoulder against his. "Neither are you sixteen, but that doesn't stop you from becoming Prince Pouty once in a while."

" _Agni_." He feigns annoyance, but can't quite keep the giddy smile off his face, "You'll be the death of me, woman."

At that, Katara rolls her eyes. "You _are_ dead, Zuko."

He laughs again; it comes so easily. Katara punches his arm in return, and then, her expression sombers. "We don't have much time."

"Time for what?"

"Always so _impatient,_ " she mutters, a finger jabbed into his chest promptly. He _should_ be abashed, but all he can do is smile. She tugs at his tunic meaningfully. "It's time for you to leave, Zuko. The next world awaits."

He raises his eyebrow at the way her lips quirk. "The next world, huh?"

"Shining a torch for you, if you remember."

He does, of course he does. But he still falters on his next words, voice trembling, "And you'll be there?"

Katara's expression softens, as she threads their fingers together again, bringing them upto her face. Her voice is soft, "I can't tell you that."

" _Katara._ "

She looks at him helplessly, whispers, "Trust me, okay?"

"Katara, please." He hates how small he sounds, but he doesn't think—

Her hand finds a way to his chest, over where he carries the scar that he bore for her. And he... he thinks he forgets to breathe.

"I— I have already done this for so long without you." The words tumble out of his mouth, awfully raw and honest. "I _can't_ do it—"

This time, she cuts him off with a kiss, hands cupping the back of his neck as she pulls him closer. He relaxes against her, imprints every single detail about her and _this_ into the back of his mind. The first time, the last time, he doesn't know; he doesn't care.

(He has never felt _younger_. Death sits well with him.)

She is the first to pull back, glassy eyes staring up at him. "It'll be alright, Zuko."

There's conviction in her voice, and if she has faith, then so does he. Nevertheless: "Don't disappoint me, waterbender."

She grins at once. "I wouldn't dare to, Fire Lord."

There's a pause, and he musters up the courage to tell her—

She shoves him by the shoulder, the two of them collapsing onto the emptiness of air that somehow manages to bear all their weight.

Her hands linger on his shoulders. "Close your eyes, your life will flash by you. And when you're ready you'll step through."

He can't help himself: "And you'll be there?"

She smiles, shuts his eyes with a gentle brush of her fingers. "I'll see you, Zuko."

"Katara, wait—" His eyes snap open, finds her still smiling. It makes it a little easier. For all the times that almost happened, and for all the times that should have happened. "I love you."

She laughs over the words, so utterly beautiful that it breaks his heart, "I do too."

A weight lifts off his shoulders at that; a heaviness he _knows_ he has been carrying around for all his life.

"Close your eyes," she says, and he does.

And then, when the world dissolves around him, everything fading into nothingness, he hears her voice chime, stirring a memory from years and _years_ ago.

"We have time, Zuko. There _is_ time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always wanted to write two things. One, Zutara (because, honestly, who doesn't?) and two, reverse chronology. And this is what resulted.
> 
> I hope you liked reading this!


	2. 176 AG: Counterpart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and leaving behind kudos/comments! It made this writer smile a lot :")

.

.

Zuko watches Katara's body float down the icy seas of the south pole two days short of the winter solstice.

Her hair is braided afresh, the loops in them just like she'd worn for her whole life; perfect and completely in place. She's blanketed in furs, put on a raft, and—

Just like that, she's gone. Just _gone_.

Zuko wonders if he imagines it, the quirk of her lips that colors her face, as he sees the last of her, drifting away from him; unreachable.

_Beat you to it, Fire Lord,_ he can almost hear her voice behind him, a breathy laugh accompanying it.

He _hates_ it.

"Uncle Zuko?" He startles at the voice, at how similar it sounds to _hers_. Kya doesn't sense his thoughts though, or chooses not to perhaps; he doesn't quite know. "We're going to go inside for the family meal. You coming?"

He fumbles; the meaning behind the words not lost on him, the _importance_ of it all, and he shakes his head. "Kya... I shouldn't. It's only—"

"Uncle," she cuts him off immediately; firm and decisive. She is every bit her mother that way. "Bumi and I want you there." There's a pause, and she adds as an afterthought: "Tenzin too."

_For Tui's sake, Zuko, just go with her,_ he thinks he hears and finds himself relenting, and he gives the waterbender in front of him a small nod. She seems pleased, and he is sure he imagines the laugh that seems to waft in from nowhere.

He tries not to think too much on the walk back to the village, and it's mostly easy. The snow threatens to swallow him alive, his feet wavering and unsteady over it.

Kya notices his struggle, and promptly loops her arms around his, a small laugh bubbling out of her.

Zuko doesn't shrug off the support, as he would have done years ago. Age isn't something that being the Fire Lord – _erstwhile_ Fire Lord – can save him from.

"Must feel like a long way away from home for you," Kya's voice cuts through his thoughts.

He chuckles, and then _really_ contemplates the words, and realizes it somehow doesn't. He wonders when that came to be; _how_ that came to be. Thinks it has something to do with what his Uncle would tell him on his years at sea: _home doesn't have to be four walls, it can be a pair of arms, and a shoulder to bear all your weights._

Kya fills the silence that has grown between them: "When we were little, Mom would tell us stories at night." There's a fond smile on her face that tugs at him. "They weren't as good as the ones you told us though. The Dancing Dragon, remember, Uncle Zuko?"

He pretends to take offense, but the smile on his face betrays him.

"But you know, Mom's favorite stories were those of spirits. Tui and La, she told that a lot."

Memory nudges at him. "The moon and the ocean spirit."

"You know the story?" Kya beams at him.

"Well..." His mind flashes back to years ago, a _lifetime_ ago, and he remembers the darkness that had shrouded the world. Eventually, he settles for, "Yeah, I do."

She hesitates for a moment, something that Zuko hasn't known her to do a lot, and then: "She would tell us how Tui and La always circled around each other... an eternal dance she would say."

Zuko feels his breath hitch, thinks of promises made and promises thwarted by destiny.

The younger woman continues, "It's just... I don't know. The way she said it, I suppose... _Push and pull, life and death, good and evil, Yin and Yang._ " She lets out a nervous laugh and shakes her head. "I don't know if I should be telling you this, but— Oh, well. I'm really glad she had you through it all."

Zuko's eyes snap to meet hers, his mouth opening in protest.

"I really mean it." Kya's grip tightens around him, a strange wistfulness in her voice, "All those years. _Everything_. I think the happiest I ever saw her was when we visited Caldera. Or Ember Island. She'd just... light up, you know?"

Memory nudges at him yet again, and he thinks of words spoken in confidence. "Kya, I'm sure she was just as happy at home with—"

"No, no. Of course she was." She pauses, collects her thoughts, and gives Zuko enough time to start thinking of the what-ifs. It's exhausting; even after all these years, it hurts all the same. Kya picks up where she left off, "I think what I'm trying to say is... freedom suited her well. Being able to _do_ things made her happy."

He _knows_ , but he says instead, "Your mother was the feistiest warrior I knew."

Kya smiles, but there's hardly any mirth in her eyes. "I know. And growing up, the only glimpses I got of that was when we were away. When she didn't have to shoulder all of it just by herself."

He protests, because he must, "Kya..."

"Thank you," she says and steals all his words. She squeezes his arm, gives him a smile that reaches her eyes. "For being there. For her, for me, for Bumi."

There's a lump in his throat, but Zuko manages to fight it. "It's what anyone would have done."

She looks at him, opens her mouth, but the words die on her lips, as the light from the village falls on them. It is blinding, the life and color in it, and Zuko _reels_.

A montage of images flashes past his eyes, so fast he doesn't even fully realize what's happening.

But he sees Katara. In every single one of them.

Seventy-six and determined, another Avatar on her hands. Sixty-eight and widowed, hardly any tears left to be shed. Fifty-three and unsteady, a shell of who he'd always known her to be. Twenty-four and determined, voice ringing above everyone else's. Fourteen and terrified, weeping as she brings him back to life.

And like a tidal wave that creeps too slowly, but knocks down everything in its path, he realizes he'll never see her again.

He doesn't think he can _breathe—_

But then, a wind whooshes past him, and he swears he hears lilted words swaying in them: _th_ _e kale cookies won't do much for you, they taste like dirt._


	3. 162 AG: Fuse

.

.

Katara doesn't understand much of Pai Sho, never has.

She is seventy-six, and figures if she hasn't picked up on the tricks of the game in all these years, then perhaps it is nothing more than a hopeless pursuit.

"Why delay the inevitable, waterbender?"

It's mostly said in good humor, but there's _still_ some pride in his voice. Being on the throne for more than half a century can do that to someone, Katara thinks.

She considers the tiles laid ahead of her, and decides: "Your hubris knows no ends, Fire Lord."

Zuko grins at her, all teeth and entirely unabashed. He looks so much younger when he smiles, something that Katara has been aware of for most of her life. She thinks – _hopes –_ that some day she'll be able to tell him that.

"Your turn, come on," he prods.

"Always so _impatient_ ," she huffs, takes a long look at the board, realizes anew that there is no winning on the cards for her.

(She wonders why she cares so much about winning a stupid game. After everything she hasn't been able to win in all these years. _Maybe that's why_.)

" _Katara._ "

She can sense his nervous energy wrecking through the room; this tiny heaven they have crafted for themselves, in Ember Island, away from civilization and noise. It's nice, she thinks, to take this time off for herself.

(To give herself a semblance of what she's lost. Winning has never felt this important.)

Something strikes her. She smiles, ever so innocently, and picks up the Knotweed tile off the board. "I have an idea."

Zuko groans, throws back his head for what she calls the visual theatrics.

"Ask me what," she persists, arms crossing over her chest.

He doesn't miss a beat. "If I don't, will you spare me?"

Katara pulls a face and immediately thinks she might be a little too old for that. But then, hasn't Ember Island always been there for exactly that?

To be who she wants to be. To be who she could have been. To be who she _is_.

Not Master Waterbender Katara, or the Avatar's wife Katara, or Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, but just _Katara_.

She wonders if this is why Zuko chooses Ember Island to return to, year after year. To be just _him_ , no titles attached to his name, no bloodied legacies entwined with his very existence.

"No, I won't," she says before she gets far too ahead with her thoughts. And then, only for good measure, "Do I ever spare you, Zuko?"

He laughs, hearty and whole, and she feels something uncoil in her chest. She might be too old for _this_ , though.

"Tell me, Katara."

She beams at him, wonders how he always lets her win.

(She likes these little victories over him. They almost make up for a lifetime of losing him.)

"I was thinking," she imagines there's a glint in her eyes by now, "it's been a while since I've taken a ride on Druk."

He sighs lengthily, dramatic, yet another one of his visual theatrics. "Always with the dragon."

"Well, it has been a while. What can I say?" And then, because she is old enough to joke about this sort of thing: "For all I know, I could be dead tomorrow."

Zuko freezes, hands stiffening mid-air over the Pai Sho board, as his eyes slowly meet hers. And _fuck_ , turns out she is the only one who thinks that's appropriate for a joke.

"Zuko..." she begins, but sees no ending in sight.

He shakes his head, tears his gaze away from her, and rises to his feet. She is quick to follow, feet moving on automatic, and arms reaching out to keep him in place.

He angles his face away from her, and for a moment all Katara can see is the terrified boy from the Crystal Catacombs of Ba Sing Se. Her heart wrenches, and she wonders since when it had become physically painful to see him like this.

_Perhaps always._

She rests a gentle hand on his scarred cheek and forces him to look at her.

"Don't," he bites out, somehow entirely hollow, eyes still not meeting hers. "Don't do that, Katara."

"I have never been very good with jokes, you know." Her thumb traces an idle pattern on his skin, circles and more circles. Isn't that what they have always been running in?

"Zuko," she finally says at the silence.

He pulls away from her, draws back, so much distance between them that it makes her reel. She readies apologies, thinks of words to say—

"It's not what you said."

She stutters, "It's n-not?"

Zuko shakes his head, starts, "Well, not exactly. I... There is something I have been meaning to tell you for a while now." Drags his eyes _finally_ to meet hers, and she realizes she feels a lot lighter. "It never really felt like the right time but..."

Only took me to talk about my death, she almost asks but holds her tongue.

"...I think I'm ready to step down as Fire Lord."

Katara feels her eyes widening, all thoughts of tactless jest disappearing from her mind.

He probably mistakes the surprise on her face for horror, says hastily, "It's not... that I don't care for my nation. But I think there is a lot more that I could help with, things that I _can't_ do as Fire Lord."

Realization dawns upon her; politics can be a dirty game, and she surmises how harmless actions can be twisted and misconstrued when there's a monarch behind them. "So what are you going to do?"

There's a pause, and then, wary and jittery: "I was hoping you could help me with that."

_Oh._

Zuko straightens himself, eyes bright, _burning_ , and damn, if she doesn't feel twenty and stupid again; willing to throw away everything for the man in front of her.

"The world could do with someone like you, Katara." He sounds so certain, she almost believes him. "It's a new world, but the problems are the same. You _know_ them, you understand the people, you are fair and compassionate and—"

"Zuko," she cuts him off while she still can.

There's resignation in her voice, she knows he recognizes it. Recognizes where it stems from. But something tells her he isn't willing to hand her a victory right now, not without a fight, anyway.

"Republic City could do with your help, Katara." He crosses the distance between them, warm calloused hands tugging at her own. "It's just as much as your city as it is mine. As it was Aang's."

Bitterness bubbles within her, in a way it should not. _That's not what the scrolls say_ , she almost tells him.

Almost. But not quite.

She glances at his hand wrapped around hers, thinks how this is what Katara from years ago would have wanted, and thinks how it's too late now. "You _know_ my work is at home, Zuko. Training the next Avatar, is what I'm supposed to do."

"Katara..."

She separates their hands, watches him fold in on himself. Tears prick her eyes, but she knows how to hold herself together; she has a lifetime of doing that behind her.

"I'm sorry," she tells him.

He gives her a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and waves her away like it's no big deal.

(This is a victory, she knows. Doesn't feel like one, that too she knows. She hates it; this fusion of winning and losing. The blurring of lines that should exist.)

Zuko clears his throat. He sounds hopeful: "Maybe, someday?"

She _wants_ to lose now. Or win, she isn't sure. "Maybe, someday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I don't know if this chapter does justice to the prompt 'Fuse', but oh well. xD
> 
> Also, while inconsequential, I'd like to point out that the Knotweed tile that Katara picks up is a 'Fire' tile. There's a Boat tile too, which is a 'Water' (duh) tile, and I toyed with the idea of fusing those two tiles, but somehow that didn't happen.
> 
> Before I devolve into a Pai Sho Manual, I'll see myself out. xD


	4. 154 AG: Celestial

.

.

The south pole, Zuko realizes as Druk carries him through the iridescent skies, is truly something else bathed in the light of the aurora.

The light bounces off the snow, green and blue, and swirls in the air around him; ethereal and otherworldly. It makes all the stories he has heard over the years about spirits slipping in and out through portals of nothingness seem all that much real.

The ship bearing the Republic City Police insignia looms into view at the dock below him. A smile creeps up his face as he maneuvers his dragon closer to the woman who is leaning heavily against the ship.

"I hate _shoes_ ," is how Toph greets him, kicking at the snow sullenly to make a point.

A laugh bubbles out of Zuko, and he extends an arm forward that she takes without hesitation.

"It's good to see you, Toph."

She grins at him, cocks her head to the side. "You too, Sparky. You look really good."

"Uh, tha—" He rolls his eyes as the grin on Toph's face widens, and mutters under his breath, "Very funny."

She snorts, latches onto him just a little tighter, and then: "Shall we?"

.

.

A lot has changed since Zuko visited the south for the first time, and where there only stood a dilapidated village, there are now cities, complete with a compound to train the next Avatar.

He wonders how many years it'll take them to find out who that will be, and promises himself that he'll do everything to keep the peace that they have fought so hard to secure in place till they do.

Life really comes full circle at times, he thinks.

They slowly inch towards civilization, more and more people showing up, hushed whispers going around at the sight of the Fire Lord and the Chief of Police of Republic City.

Zuko is used to this by now, has stopped reading too much into the pointed glares that are thrown at him even now. Forgiveness for his nation has been a long and strenuous path, and it's only fair.

He dispels that thought, focuses on the present, and looks around for a hint of blue robes and a crooked smile.

"If I were a betting woman, I'd say she's in the healing hut," Toph deadpans, and he almost freezes.

He grows increasingly aware of the way his heart picks up pace, an uneasiness settling to the pit of his stomach.

He grimaces, and not for the first time in his life, hopes the woman beside him wasn't so adept in the art of _reading_ heartbeats. "I don't know what you're talking about," he even manages to sound nonchalant but knows there's really no point.

"Sure you don't." Zuko considers collapsing face-first in the tundra. Toph sighs, has the audacity to sound _bored_ : "It's not like it's a secret."

" _What?_ "

"For me. Relax, Sparky. I'm not the gossiping kind."

Zuko tries to sort through the scramble that is his mind, tries to make sense of it, at least some of it, and finally fumbles, "H-how long?"

"Oh, just a little while." He lets out a breath, but then: "About half a century, give or take."

 _Agni,_ _what had he walked into?_

"The healing hut," she reminds him, and he complies.

.

.

Somehow, that is exactly where they find Katara.

Zuko tries not to stare too much, perfectly cognizant of Toph's presence beside him, but that's always been a lost battle with Katara. She looks older, and more... _worn out_ , he thinks, given how the last few months must have been for her.

But she also looks at peace, at _home_ , starkly different to the woman he had seen a few years ago in Caldera City.

"Uncle Zuko!" He is torn from his thoughts by the _other_ waterbender in the room, and her solid embrace.

Katara greets Toph with a hug, as her eyes meet his across the room. He imagines there's a smile in it somewhere.

Pleasantries are exchanged; he asks Kya how the south pole has treated her, and she tells him rather sternly to stop losing sleep over politics and asks him how his daughter and grandchildren are doing.

It's nice to be here, he thinks somewhere at the back of his mind.

"The two of you are very late," Katara says after that with narrowed eyes and hands on her hips.

"Still mothering us, I see, Sugar Queen."

Katara rolls her eyes, huffs, and feigns annoyance, and somewhere in between, looks at him for some semblance of support.

She looks happy, and that's always looked good on her, and so he shrugs it off. She rolls her eyes again, this time at him, and Zuko decides it's all worth it.

_Always has been._

"Where is Snoozles?" Toph's voice rings through the little bubble he has somehow walked into.

He feels his face flush, wonders why it feels so _easy_ to get lost in his own world when she is around.

Kya snorts, something that he vaguely registers. "He's with my brothers, and Aunt Suki." Pauses for a while, and then takes Toph's arms into her own. "We should go meet them."

Toph perks up at that immediately. "That's a wonderful idea," she says. And then, with one firm punch against Zuko's arm: "We can leave these two to trade their bad jokes."

Zuko winces, wonders if _that_ was required, but keeps his thoughts to himself. Honestly, he has had a little too much of Toph's bluntness for one day.

He hopes it's only him and his imagination, the way the air seems to change around them. It's not _bad_ or uncomfortable, but somehow more... familiar; intimate.

"Fire Lord Zuko," Katara smiles at him, eyes glinting like always, as the door behind them shuts.

He returns her smile, feels impossibly warm in a land of ice, and asks, "You holding up okay?"

The air changes again, and this time he knows it isn't in his head. The smile falls off Katara's face, lips stretching into a thin line. Her eyes slowly meet his, and she asks, voice nothing more than a whisper, "Why does everyone ask me the same thing?"

His brows furrow on their own. "Katara—"

"My husband was a hundred and sixty-six years old, and he's left me with a legacy to look after. I can't sit and grieve like we're ordinary people."

It's not so much the words, but the way she says it that takes him aback; devoid of emotion and overly practical. It's like staring back in time, looking at himself in the mirror—

"Katara."

It's like she reads his mind: "It's not what you're thinking, Zuko. I'm okay. I really am."

"But—"

"I loved Aang, I did." There's a smile on her lips, bitter but _there_. Her voice trembles, "Despite everything, we shared a life together. But I know what's next for me. I finally do."

He doesn't say anything, doesn't know if there's anything to be said.

"The next Avatar's amongst us, Zuko. Here, somewhere in the south pole, and now I _know_ _..._ That is the purpose I had been looking for."

He takes in her words, looks into her eyes that shine without a flicker of doubt, and wonders where all her strength comes from.

He ignores the way his heart clenches at his next words: "The world's lucky to have you, Katara."

She startles, but gives him a smile nonetheless, blue eyes brighter than he has seen in a long time.

There's a beat, and then another, and then finally: "We should probably get going." Her lips curve into half a smile. "The aurora awaits."

A thought occurs to him: "I was thinking of that story you'd once told us. About spirits and the aurora."

She pauses for a moment, and he worries he remembers more than he should. But then: "You always seemed to like that one." A smile ghosts up her face, voice coming from somewhere far away, "A path from this world to the next, so tough that one gets lost in the darkness of the night. And so the old spirits decided that they'd shine a torch and guide the new spirits home, giving birth to the first aurora, and all the ones that came after."

There's a lump in Zuko's throat; he swallows, then muses, "A torch."

She beams at him. "It's probably the stories that make it all the more beautiful."

He wills himself to nod, and then: "Do you believe someone would really shine a torch for us?"

Katara looks at him, eyes searching and misty; he feels he is shattering into a thousand pieces, and coalescing into being whole, all at the same time.

She blinks, takes a step closer, and finally: "I'd shine one for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tale about the southern lights and the spirits is one of many Inuit beliefs regarding the aurora. It (amongst many other things) is where this story kind of started taking shape, with how Katara tells Zuko she would shine a torch for him (in this chapter), and how she actually manifests to help him through to the next world (in the first chapter). 
> 
> *sighs, and sighs some more* I just have a lot of feelings about these two.
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always!


	5. 139 AG: Hesitancy

.

.

In all the years that Katara has visited Caldera City before, she doesn't think she has ever felt the atmosphere to be so fragile; threatening to fall apart constantly and continuously.

"You find this strange without the kids, don't you?" Zuko asks her over dessert, never one to mince his words.

She freezes, the tart pie suddenly tasteless in her mouth, and fumbles with what she wants to say, "It's not... well—" A thought strikes her; she _can_ be honest here. "A little, yes."

His eyes meet hers— and the air in the room suddenly feels too hot, too uncomfortable, too _wrong_.

He is a friend, she chants in her head. Despite everything, despite all the moments, despite all the words said, and all the words left unsaid— _Because_ of all the words left unsaid, they are friends.

And nothing more.

"I do too," he says it only after he drops his gaze from hers, fingers fidgeting with the dish in front of him.

Caged breath finds a way out, and she opens her mouth, not entirely sure _why_ , but—

"It was Izumi's idea," he mutters. "She thought I was overworking myself. ' _Your vacation days are not invalid because I've grown up, Dad.'_ I don't know what I was thinking, you probably hate this place—"

"No."

His eyes widen, jerking up to meet hers, and she begins to question herself. She tries to make sense of it all, starts, "I mean, it's not like I _need_ a vacation. Nothing much to do when—" Lets that thought die as quickly as it births itself. "But... the change in scenery is nice. Believe it or not, I've actually missed the Fire Nation," she is proud of the lightness that she manages to inject into her voice, "so it is nice to be back."

She's sure she imagines the way he seems to relax at her words, shoulders no longer drawn taut; a hesitant smile tugs at his lips. "Okay, Katara."

And that's that.

.

.

At least till dinner ends, and Katara tries and fails to sleep, and seeks solace by the turtleduck pond that holds far too many memories.

"Mind if I intrude?" he asks when he finds her, voice guarded, and arms crossed.

She shakes her head, pats the spot of grass beside her that he soon makes his own. They sit in silence for a while, till it threatens to stifle the life out of Katara with the stark resemblance it bears to the ones back home.

She sifts through her own thoughts, tries and _tries_ not to let them shape into words, to think of everything else but what's wrecking its way through her mind but—

Zuko's here, and she doesn't remember the last time _anyone_ was here, and they are by the turtleduck pond, and she knows it can hold secrets, and—

"I don't think I can live in Republic City anymore."

His eyes snap to meet hers.

Katara ignores the voice in her head that tells her Zuko shouldn't be the first person to know this. "I have nothing to do there. Bumi and Kya have lives of their own. Tenzin hasn't been home in years. I just... think there'll be more for me to do back at the south pole."

He says nothing for a long time, and Katara feels her anticipation grow, nibbling away at her.

Her eyes wander, note the slivers of grey in his hair, the muscle in his jaw that ticks, the way his tunic dips low enough to reveal a hint of the starburst of scar tissue and— "You should go."

She tears away her gaze, feels horrible and guilty and _wrong_ , all over again. She manages a disbelieving laugh. "Just like that?"

Zuko shrugs, voice impossibly quiet, "You belong in blue."

 _Oh._ She wonders – knows but still wonders, because that's simpler – why that sends a distinctive chill down her spine, the hair on the back of her neck standing up, body reacting in a way it _shouldn't._

In a way it has been nevertheless.

_Stop._

She shifts, furthers the distance between them, and focuses on the moonlit water in the pond. Even if Zuko notices it, he doesn't react to it.

But he has other questions: "So, where is Aang now?"

"With Tenzin."

"Katara."

There's exasperation in his voice, and it _pisses_ her right off. "It's only the truth, Zuko. I don't know _where_ my husband is, what else do you want me to say?"

Her voice ricochets in the silence of the night, loud and _wrong_ , bouncing off the water and torpedoing in the air around her. She shrinks, smaller and smaller, and has the urge to run away. Somewhere the vehemence of her own words cannot haunt her— _how had it come this?_

She jumps when she feels a hand on her knee, just the ghost of a touch. She _knows_ she should shrug it off, not give her mind – _heart –_ any more reasons to meander, but—

She's _tired_ of all the buts, she just wants to get it all out; the bad, the ugly, the unspeakable.

It's like he reads her mind: "You can talk to me."

His eyes are already on her by the time she wills herself to look at him; amber eyes that she's seen all her life, but never quite like this.

_She can be honest here._

And finally: "I feel like I failed my kids."

It comes out as a rasp whisper, and she thinks she would blink out of existence if it weren't for his hands grounding her. He doesn't say anything, gives her the space she needs. If she decides to never bring this up again, she knows he won't push her. But she also knows that if she tells him everything that's wearing her down, he'll listen without any judgement, or prejudice.

And so she says, "Aang... wasn't really a bad father till we had Tenzin. He'd always be off, yes. But he would still find time to come home every once in a while, spend some time with Bumi and Kya."

She notices how Zuko's hand is no longer on her knee, misses the warmth, but figures it's probably for the best. "But when Tenzin started to bend, the two of them would just take off," a bitter laugh rolls off her mouth, "and not come back for months. Aang wasn't really doing anything different with Bumi and Kya, but he _was_ with Tenzin, and—"

She bites back on her own words, doesn't think she can bring up the days spent in Caldera City now, with him right here; so _close_. "I saw all of that happen, Zuko. I _let_ all of that happen. I could have told Aang to be better." She hears her voice rise a notch, fists clenching by her sides. "I could have asked him to teach Kya waterbending, to teach Bumi... how to _dance_ or something silly, but—"

Katara chokes back a sob. "I could have, but I didn't. I never could tell him anything, always afraid he wouldn't be able to take it. Always afraid of hurting him." She breathes, the words wrecking their way within her. "I let my kids grow up like that. Does that not make me a much worse parent?"

There's a curtain of tears blurring her vision, and she _hates_ it—

Zuko's arms come around her back, pulling her closer till her head rests on his shoulder, body angled away till it somehow isn't. Her heart's thunderous in her chest—

"You're a wonderful mother, Katara," he whispers into her hair.

That makes her heart still, somehow answers questions she wasn't even asking.

"Katara." She feels his warm breath on the side of her face, and this still feels _wrong_ , but— "I watched you bring up your kids into the fine and competent adults that they are today. I watched you for years as you treated _my_ daughter as your own. You _are_ a wonderful mother."

There's something important in his voice, and she pulls herself straighter; wills herself to look him in the eye.

He gives her a small smile, hesitant fingers a hairsbreadth away from her. Her eyes flutter close, a thumb wiping away a stray tear, and then tracing a line down the side of her face.

"Thank you," she breathes.

He doesn't say anything, he doesn't really have to.

It is what it is.

And that's that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have another chapter written for this prompt, but I figured I'd get this out before I edit that.


	6. 124 AG: Hesitancy

.

.

Zuko's broadswords stop mid-air as fire and water explode around him, dissolving into a spray of mist.

Bumi, all of thirteen, drops his own weapon onto the sodden earth at the display, and the turtleducks erupt into commotion; Zuko barely registers any of it.

His eyes flit across the palace garden, find amused blue ones already on him. Katara cackles at what he's sure is his own scandalized expression. Kya is _eight_ , and Izumi is _t_ _en_ , and they're already bending like they are masters.

"That was excellent," Katara tells the girls who are grinning at each other, panting but clearly exuberant. "Wasn't it, Fire Lord Zuko?"

The _nickname_ brings him to his senses fully; he scowls at the woman who has a smirk dancing on her lips.

"It was like nothing I've seen," he says, beaming at the girls. A thought occurs to him: "Bumi, I'm afraid you're going to have me flat on my a—" he catches Katara's glare, "—my back someday."

The boy's shoulders lift at that, and a bright smile breaks onto his face. "I totally will, Uncle Zuko!" He turns to his sister and Izumi, flashes them yet another grin. "First to race me to the courtyard wins my packet of fireflakes."

Zuko blinks, finds Katara mirroring his action, as the kids take off in a scurry of activity.

"All that energy," he muses. "I miss being young."

Katara scowls at him, and jabs his forearm meaningfully. "You are forty, Zuko! Not ancient."

"Wait till _you_ are forty."

She gives an airy sigh, tilts her head towards him, and says, "I'm sure I'll still be kicking your ass then, Fire Lord."

"Is that a challenge, _waterbender_?" If she has nicknames, then so does he.

"Maybe, it is."

Katara's eyes glint, in a way he knows too well. He doesn't remember the last time he sparred with her, but it has always been a well-balanced dance; an endless duel of offense and defense.

She settles into one of her well-honed stances, bending the water from the pond to conjure a shield in front of her. The smile never leaves her face though, and Zuko finds himself shaking his head at her eagerness.

"Oh, come off it, Zuko," she calls out, clearly noticing his action. "It's not like you don't enjoy losing to me."

"What was that saying you once told me about? All talk and no—"

A blast of water comes his way, and he counters it with two balls of flame. Oh, they are just getting _started_ ; testing each other, and seeing what lengths they are willing to take this.

He knows she won't back down, hold back; she never does. And neither will he. That's why they _work_.

"All talk and no walk, is that the one you were talking about?" Katara looks jubilant, a whip of water dancing in between her fingers.

He snorts, and sends a flare towards her in reply, punching into it with all his weight, and she meets it with equal force. Katara grins, and _he's had enough_.

He charges forward, flames erupting from his fists, from the kicks he levels in her direction. She is trapped in her need for defense, eyes focused as they anticipate his next attack, arms moving with precision.

He closes in, knows it isn't an entirely _fair_ fight; she only has the water from the pond, and there's boundless energy at his disposal. He wonders if that's why she's doing this; to prove she can win despite all the odds stacked against her.

It probably is; Katara's stubborn that way.

She ducks, a flame too close, and he wavers for a moment. Fire's _dangerous_ ; takes a step back, opens his mouth to apologize— _oh,_ she is ruthless today, flinging him back with powerful lashes of her element.

He crashes backward, back meeting a godforsaken tree, a sharp twinge running through his muscles— he's _forty_ , not sixteen. And Katara's suddenly in front of him, swirls of water closing around his wrists, rendering him powerless.

She presses closer, fingers jabbing into his chest, pinning him in place. She smiles; ecstatic, victorious, _beautiful_. "Give up?"

Her voice comes out as a whisper, and suddenly Zuko's aware of how close they are; the way his heart hammers in his chest, underneath scar she has her hand pressed against, the way her lips are parted, the corners of her mouth twisted in exhilaration, the way a bead of sweat glistens on her neck, and trickles down, further and further—

_No._

Katara's eyes widen, and she staggers backward, restores the distance that should have always existed.

_What the fuck was he thinking?_

He readies apologies, thinks of all the ways to say he is stupid, and she has a family, and he has a family, and his daughter loves her, and he doesn't want anything to change—

"I'm going to go inside."

Katara's voice cuts through the noise in his head. It's cold, cut off; it's worse, _so much worse,_ than having her scream at him, or telling him he no longer deserved her trust.

"Katara, I'm—"

"Don't," she cuts him off, a slight tremble in her voice. "Don't you _dare_ apologize."

He stares at her helplessly, feels himself dwindle; reduce to nothing. He wonders if he sounds as small as he feels, "I don't..." _Dammit,_ this isn't even about _him_ , and this is important: "Izumi likes having you around, the three of you around. And, ever since Nyh passed, I can't— I don't want her to lose—"

"Zuko." She has her hands raised, gesturing him to stop, and an inscrutable expression on her face. She shakes her head, and then, voice horribly flat: "Please, stop."

"I—"

"We're not going to stop visiting." She pauses, wraps her arms around herself. "My kids love you too. I'm not going to do that to them."

He wonders if it's tears that he sees glistening in her eyes, but she's too quick to spin on her heels and to leave him alone; cold underneath the scorching sun.

.

.

Dinner's mostly a silent affair, and Zuko wonders if the children pick up on anything.

They're midway through dessert when Izumi says, an indignant expression on her face, "Dad, you haven't told us a story in ages."

Zuko sighs, figures he can use the distraction. "I really haven't, have I?" He gives his daughter a smile. "Which one would you like to hear, princess?"

Izumi beams, and then ponders for a long time, much to the annoyance of Bumi who makes it known by repeated groans of "Think faster."

She finally says, eyes gleaming, "Wei and Niao!"

Zuko freezes, recognizes the tale his daughter wants him to recount, something his mother had told him years ago. He doesn't think he can— he doesn't think he _wants_ to.

"Uncle Zuko, _please_ ," Kya pipes in.

He swallows, steels his heart. His voice still sounds raspy, "They say the stars Wei and Niao have been in love for ages. Even before the age of Avatars, before man ever walked this planet, before the spirits came to visit us."

The children listen to him in silent wonder, and he catches Katara shifting through the corner of his eyes. He ignores the way his heart clenches, "But despite the love they have for each other, the skies separate them. And only once— just for one single day, the skies part for them to meet."

Silence overtakes the room. He thinks he hears Kya sniffs, but he keeps his gaze turned down; too afraid that he'll reveal too much if he looks up.

"I don't get it," Bumi's voice booms. The boy has a frown on his face. "If they really love each other, why can't they just find a way to be together?"

He flounders, the words somehow too powerful.

But Katara steps in, as always. She gives her son a squeeze on his shoulder, and tells him, very slowly, like she wants him to learn a lesson that she couldn't, "Because sometimes life can be like that. You can love someone with all your heart, and things may still not work out."

Zuko feels a lump in his throat, wants to run away, and wash away all the emotions that are lashing at him.

"And that's how it ends?" Kya really has tears in her eyes.

Katara smiles, and he thinks it's the saddest he has seen her in years. "No, sweetie, of course not. Just because you don't end up with someone doesn't mean that's the end."

"So you can still be friends with them?"

Zuko stills, but Katara _finally_ meets his eye, and it's only fitting, he thinks, that this decision between them is also taken in silence; in the absence of words, and in a void that exists only between the two of them.

"Always, Kya. Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of the stars is heavily inspired by that of Tanabata, a Japanese festival that I stumbled upon while I was looking for Japanese lore about star-crossed lovers (since the Fire Nation is loosely based on imperial Japan).
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. 115 AG: Affirm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Minor Depiction of Violence

.

.

Fire Lord Zuko returns to full-fledged political life a month after losing his wife.

(He'd heard the whispers, of course. Around the palace. In Republic City. _Too soon to be coming back,_ they had said.)

The room in the City Hall feels too small today, the walls closing in, the prickly heat of Republic City crawling its way up Zuko's skin while the Earth Kingdom representative – Saye, he thinks – goes on and on about how she believes bloodbending can be useful in the field of medicine.

Which, of course, is nothing but a ton of _bullshit_ , but he perseveres through it all. For the sake of fucking diplomacy.

"You okay, buddy?" Sokka whispers to him, nudging his knee underneath the table.

He wonders if there's anything on his face to suggest otherwise, but gives the other man a reassuring nod nevertheless.

Sokka returns the nod, gives him half a smile, and leaves him alone to his thoughts.

He doesn't mind it. He has had enough people looking at him over the last month with pity in their eyes – _burned at thirteen, crowned at sixteen, widowed at thirty-one_ – and he can't take it anymore.

A drop of sweat trickles down the side of his face, reminds him of how much he detests the sticky humidity of this city. His hair feels uncomfortable, and his crown has never felt heavier.

It's funny, he thinks, how he misses the dry heat of Caldera City; misses the hot gusts of wind that lash at him without leaving behind a sheen of sweat, a constant reminder of its lurching discomfort.

The Earth Kingdom woman – _Saye –_ stands up at long last, and Zuko thinks that's the end of it. They can hear Katara next, and she'll shut up everyone who thinks bloodbending should even be allowed to exist with her precise logic and powerful voice, and then they'll outlaw it, and they'll just... go home.

( _Another heir to the throne left without a mother,_ the whispers had also said. Zuko had wondered if it had something to do with his godforsaken heritage. Paying for the heinous crimes of his forefathers, or something along those lines.)

"With the permission of the honorary members of the United Republic Council, I'd like to bring someone forth," Saye tells them instead. "A healer, if you will. I believe her demonstrations will help us reach a better decision."

There's something odd about how she says it, the way her eyes glint as she narrows them at him, and only him. He wonders if it's all in his head, if he is truly starting to lose his mind.

"No harm in wasting a little more time, right?" Sokka asks him under his breath with a roll of his eyes.

"Of course not," he bites out, an inexplicable feeling of dread settling to the pit of his stomach.

He watches as Saye saunters out of the room, still trying to place a finger on what it is that's filling him with panic. Sokka turns to him, doesn't help his thoughts one bit. "There's something fishy about that woman."

"You too?"

Sokka frowns, and then groans as he lowers his head onto his hands. "I can't wait for Katara to shut down all her claims though." A laugh bubbles out of the man clad in blue. "I'm sure my sister's temper is already off the roof by now. She's been waiting for what… an hour now, in this heat?"

Despite everything, Zuko finds a smile ghosting across his lips, and then instantly shakes his head to do away it. His skin crawls again, and it has nothing to do with the heat this time.

He hates it, hates himself for still feeling this way. For _feeling_ , at all.

Saye returns, a woman in tow, a woman dressed in Northern Water Tribe colors. Sokka's eyes meet his, brows furrowed, confusion apparent.

"Now, if I may," the Earth Kingdom representative begins.

She looks at him one more time, a maniacal glint in her eyes, and Zuko feels himself stiffen, fists clenching at his sides, body hyper-aware of the stench of sweat and brine.

And then— and then, it happens too fast, the motions a memory – _nightmare_ – etched in his mind.

A knife comes out of nowhere, glistening in the harsh glare of the sunlight— Zuko lunges forward, a word on his lips; _no? Nyh?_

But it all happens too fast, far too out of control for him to do anything about it— Saye plunges the blade into herself, and all Zuko can see is red and only red. He thinks he hears voices behind him, feels Sokka's arms pulling him back, but it's all too familiar, all too _similar_ , till it's not.

The healer holds up a hand, cradles Saye's almost limp body, and then begins to move her hands in a movement he recognizes.

 _Fuck_.

Realization dawns upon him, but his heart still hammers in his chest. The blood stops gushing out, held back by an invisible force, as the healer continues to control it; _bend_ it.

The room starts to spin around him, solid lines blurring into shapelessness. There's a droning; a loud, distinctive, ugly noise that gives him a splitting headache.

This is sick, this is perverse; he wants to yell, but his throat is like sandpaper, and his voice is lost somewhere in between memory and reality.

( _The Fire Lady stabbed to death in front of the Fire Lord, and all he did was watch_ , they had said. It hardly mattered that the words weren't true. What mattered was that they had been poured into the crevices of reality.)

"Zuko? Zuko?"

Sokka still has an arm around him, and he realizes he is trembling, and that he would have collapsed a long time ago had it not been for that.

"You've seen enough," Sokka sounds incredibly calm despite everything that has unfolded. "Go outside. The rest of us will put an end to this."

He thinks he nods, but his eyes refuse to move from the wound that is being healed, skin patching up under the healer's touch, leaving behind only a thin tapered line.

"Zuko, go."

He nods again, the remnants of blood on Saye's clothes catching his eye, no longer sickly red, but a dried out brown, and—

She opens her eyes, blinks, once, twice, and locks her eyes upon him. Zuko freezes, feels his hands going cold, sweat sticking to his entire body, and— she _smiles_.

Bile rises to his mouth, stomach twisting with disgust, skin tainted and repulsive, and he wants to rip it all off—

His feet move on automatic, tearing his body away from Sokka's solid grasp, and he runs.

Away from the room, away from the blood, away from _everything_ , and when a hand reaches out to catch him as he flies through the sickeningly pristine corridors of the City Hall, brown skin and blue robes and entirely too _close_ , he shrugs it off and just keeps running.

.

.

Sokka and Katara find him in the empty room where he hides till his blood stops thrumming in his veins, and his heart stops pounding in his chest.

Sokka hangs back a foot away, but Katara crouches in front of him. He can feel her eyes on him but does not have the courage to look up.

"It's done," Sokka says finally. "It's banned. We don't have to worry about it anymore."

Zuko wills himself to nod.

"Come on, let's go," Katara tells him.

It almost hurts to look at her, to see the way she looks at him, eyes helpless and teary. Her hands shift, and he's suddenly afraid she's going to _reach out_ , but she pulls back before anything happens at all.

And that's how he knows, that she knows too. She has heard them too.

( _Threw himself in front of a lightning bolt to save a Water Tribe peasant, and he couldn't even save his own wife_. These were the worst of them all. The ones that kept him up at night.)

Sokka is awfully quiet, and Zuko wonders how much he has heard. He hates that he cares so much about what shadows hiss in the dark.

He hates there's some truth hidden in all the lies.

Katara walks by his side, and Sokka walks a few steps ahead, and when his thoughts start to get too heavy one more time, she says, "It's all talk, Zuko. There's no truth in it."

He wonders if she really believes that, but does not dare to ask, and lets the words die on his lips.

It's not like it's the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I have another chapter written for this prompt but figured I'd get this one out first.


	8. 105 AG: Affirm

.

.

While Katara has always known the Fire Nation Royal Palace to be extraordinarily adorned, the way it lights up for the Fire Lord's wedding still manages to knock all the air out of her lungs.

She strolls through the palace corridors, soaks in the red and the golden and the black, breathes in the scent of fire lilies that are being hung up on the walls, listens to the excited chattering of the maids as they gush about the Fire Lady to be, and wonders why her heart feels so heavy.

It's a wedding for Tui's sake, she tells herself. She _shouldn't_ be feeling like this.

She rounds a corner, her own chamber barely ten steps away, when she sees _her_ , right outside her own door.

Really, it could be anyone, but Katara _knows._ Knows it from the way her black hair flows down to her hips, the way the red robe sits on her, the way she holds herself; upright and proud.

Katara hasn't even spoken to her, and yet she can feel the quiet trepidation seeping into her bones. The woman in front of her – Nyh, she's heard – _looks_ like royalty; in a way that she knows she never can.

"Master Katara?"

It's posed as a question, and Katara knows she has to reply, but all she can do is fumble. "That's me," she finally finds the right words, and plasters a smile on her face. "Lady Nyh, I presume."

The woman – _Nyh_ – laughs, and it's a lovely kind of laugh. It's measured, and reined in, of course, but it's also somehow _real_ ; not superficial like those of most other noblewomen Katara has encountered before. It's lovely, but only adds on to the inexplicable weight bearing her down.

"Just Nyh, please," she beams.

Katara gives her another smile because she doesn't know what else to do, and then: "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you, that would be lovely."

Katara pushes open the heavy wooden door, wonders if Nyh only talks in _pleases_ and _thank yous,_ if that is what a Fire Lady is supposed to do, and if that is what Zuko likes; _wants._

And then she wonders why her heart feels heavier at that thought.

They make the low table that furnishes the room their own. Nyh sits perfectly, because of course she does, with hands clasped on the table, back held straight, and a smile on her lips.

"I hope this doesn't feel odd, me turning up at your door the night before my wedding. I only thought it would be proper to introduce myself to the Fire Lord's closest friends before it gets too busy with the festivities."

It's the words _Fire Lord_ that make Katara shrivel. It sounds impersonal, horribly so, and confirms what she has known all along on some subconscious level. She dispels that thought, tries not to think of what Zuko is being pushed into.

"Absolutely not." She manages her brightest smile, and maybe because she's petty that way, or because she really wants to know: "I'd love to get to know the woman who has chosen to put up with Zuko for her entire life."

And, that does it.

Nyh's perfect persona finally cracks; the smile slips off her face, her hands fidget on the table, and there's unrest across her otherwise measured features.

Something changes in Nyh's voice, something that Katara can't quite identify: "I don't know how much he has told you but—"

_Nothing because the war ended and suddenly we were fighting separate battles, sometimes against each other._

"—this isn't really about my choice."

She gets it, but she needs to _know_ , full and proper: "I'm sorry?"

Nyh's eyes narrow, and it's almost condescending, and Katara wants to take offense but there's a lot more at play here. "The Fire Nation needs heirs. I'm from a noble family. You just have to put two and two together, Master Katara."

Oh, she _has_. And she hates it. She wonders what she can say to that, flounders and flails, and Nyh looks at her like she _pities_ her, and that makes her blood boil, but—

"All of this is awful talk." The horrible _perfect_ smile is back on her face. There's a pause, and then: "I've always thought waterbending is the most powerful bending form."

Katara blinks, the sudden deviation unsettling her. "Oh?"

Nyh's eyes gleam. "Why, yes, of course. I mean, I'm no bender but I've seen enough of them in my life. I think it's quite magical that you can heal others with your powers."

Katara considers her words and finds a smile spreading across her lips. "It truly is. There's nothing more important than that."

Something flashes across Nyh's eyes at that, and Katara wonders what's coming next when: "You saved the Fire Lord's life after he took a lightning bolt to his heart for you."

The world seems to stop spinning for a second. Katara's breath hitches, and she physically recoils, and has to do everything in her power to keep the expression on her face steady; unperturbed. Is this— is _this_ why she was really here?

If she closes her eyes, she knows what she'll see, and she's too _afraid_.

Nyh looks at her with enough meaning in her eyes, and Katara begins to realize that the facade of perfection has slipped again. There's a lot more to this woman than what meets the eye, a lot more than lovely laughs, or begrudging responses about _choice_.

Maybe she is not the only one who is trying to play games here, trying to get into the other's mind.

"I did."

The other woman lowers her eyes, lashes downcast, and _oh._ This isn't about mind games, not at all. This is about something much simpler, much more basic, much more _human_.

Zuko, the man Nyh is about to marry, the man Nyh doesn't even call by name, had been willing to sacrifice his life for Katara; a woman from the opposite end of the world, a woman who doesn't even belong in this city, in this nation.

Her heart feels heavy again, as that realization washes over her. She understands what it must look like on the outside, like there's some unspoken profundity to it all.

And the worst part is, there _is_ , but also there isn't.

Otherwise, why would she be where she is right now? Trying to quantify and measure out what their relationship is to an outsider who is going to become his _wife._

"Zuko is a good man," Katara finally wills herself to say.

Nyh's eyes jerk up to meet hers, and she ignores the weight that keeps threatening to bury her. But this is important; if this is the woman who's going to be by his side for the rest of his life, then she needs to know: "He is... brave and strong and _kind_. Sometimes impossibly so." She shakes her head, a laugh bubbling out of her. "And, he just... he _sees_ people. In a way nobody else wants to. In a way nobody else can."

Nyh looks at her like she's talking too much, and maybe she is, but she doesn't particularly care. Her heart's beating too fast in her chest, and she's trying not to think of words exchanged in one corner of this palace years ago.

Katara blinks back the tears that prick at her eyes, worries her voice will break, but tells the other woman nevertheless, "I know you don't know him very well now, but when you do, you'll understand how lucky you are."

Nyh meets her gaze, a strange sincerity in her voice: "I know he is a good man." Something plummets deep inside Katara, and threatens to pull her down with it; she _hates_ it. The other woman continues though, "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't know he was. I care about my country, and I want things to change. For the better. And I want to be by the man who has done everything right ever since he was crowned."

A sob threatens to escape her, but she holds it back.

She can picture it now. Nyh standing beside Zuko, leaders of their country, smiling at _their_ people, people who adore them and admire them, and taking them towards a new world; a better world.

It's perfect, it's what she wants for him, and _them_ , and yet all it does is bury her deeper and deeper underneath her own damn weight.

She breathes, tries to let it all go, but finds that it's easier to hold on.

And, so she says instead: "I think you're going to make an exceptional Fire Lady."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always meant for this to be as canon-compliant as possible, and that meant taking the comics into consideration (Mai leaving Zuko, the conflict at Yu Dao which kind of pitched Zuko against the others, amongst many other things.)
> 
> So yes, Zuko's wife was pretty much an OC, and I really liked writing her interaction with Katara.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and leaving behind kudos/comments!


	9. 100 AG: Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late for this prompt (I should have known my rocky relationship with words would show up at some point, haha.)

.

.

On the night before Zuko's coronation, Katara comes to an agonizing realization; while the world seems to be poised at the start of something new, something better, it somehow feels like the end of something important for her.

She twists and turns in her bed, skin itching with that knowledge, with how uncomfortable it makes her feel. She decides she _needs_ to do something, something that can keep all her doubts and misgivings at bay, and slinks out of her bedchamber, and follows the trail of moonlight till she reaches the coronation plaza.

(Her mind conjures phantom images; cold useless hands, unwilling to bend water, to _heal_ , Zuko's motionless body lying in front of her, the weight of his sacrifice branded on his chest, and Azula's laughter clamoring through the wind.)

There's a familiar silhouette in the empty space that stretches in front of her; legs stretched, back resting against a pillar that still stands upright amidst the rubble and wreckage.

She ignores the way her heart speeds up at the sight. And, instead: "Shouldn't you be resting?"

Zuko jerks, and his eyes dart till they finally find her, almost hidden in the darkness of the night.

"Hi." He beams at her, and for a moment, Katara forgets who they are and where they are; she wonders how much simpler it would all have been if they were ordinary teenagers in an ordinary world. Zuko's voice chimes through the silence of the night: "Come sit with me?"

She swallows furiously, fights the lump that keeps trying to choke her own breath, and makes her way to him. She sits close, doesn't even think of putting in distance between them.

There's a beat, and then: "You didn't answer my question though."

"I'm okay, Katara."

She clears her throat, reminds herself that he really is, that he is safe, and that he is _here_ , but: "Would that explain why you couldn't tie your own robe?"

At that, Zuko flushes, a pink that makes her heart flutter powdering his cheeks. "I..." he mumbles, eyes skittering. "It's just—"

(He'd slept sparsely on the first few nights; waking up with her name on his lips, eyes frantic as they searched for her, and hands trembling till they eventually found her. "It's alright," she'd whispered into his burning skin, a hand brushing away the mop of hair sticking to his forehead, and body tucking itself carefully into his side.)

Katara surprises herself with how quickly she moves, hands tugging at his unfastened red tunic. Zuko stills, but she persists, the softness of her own voice taking her aback. "Let me."

It takes him a second, but he eventually relaxes, gingerly turning to give her better access, pulling back his legs so that she can slip into the space in front of him.

She can feel the warmth radiating through his skin, through the tiny breath that exists between them. It's a little unsettling, but somehow Katara can't bring herself to be bothered by it.

She busies her fingers, doesn't dare to look up, doesn't dare to meet his eyes, an all-familiar heat creeping up her cheeks. Her thumb grazes across the bandage that's wrapped tightly around his torso. She gulps, can't help but ask, "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes."

Her body shudders at the heaviness of his voice, and she can't stop herself from placing a firm hand against the steady beat of his heart; a desperate need to be reassured thrumming through her veins.

He doesn't pull away, and she doesn't want to, and they stay like that for what could be years and years. She wonders why it still feels so fragile, so delicate, like if she probes too much she'll end up shattering it to pieces.

(He'd been delirious, choking out words that she couldn't quite figure out, eyes glazed. But he'd held onto her tightly, as if too afraid that if he let her go, she would drift away farther and farther; unreachable.)

There's a noise in the distance, the grating of metal, the scraping of something lighter, and Katara finally jolts to her senses. Her hands are still on his chest, trying to learn how his heart works, and they're entirely too close—

The robe remains unfastened.

Zuko probably senses the shift in her body language, and pulls away from her quietly. Her face heats up, and she lets him go.

A thought begins to cross her mind, an epiphany starting to paint itself alive—

"Can I tell you something?" he breaks through her thoughts.

She looks at him hesitantly, unsure what her heart will conjure this time. She gives a small nod though.

"I know my Uncle trusts me, and he says I'm the right person to do this but... what if I'm not?" He pauses, and a sad laugh that she never wants to hear again bubbles out of him. "I mean, you said it yourself. I have struggled with doing the right thing before."

"Zuko—" She bites back on the glib words of disapproval that form on the tip of her tongue. He deserves more than that, always has. She breathes, considers taking his hand but eventually decides against it, and then: "Did I ever tell you that my mother was the village chief?"

His eyes jerk up to meet hers, but she continues nevertheless, "She told me something when I was really young. Something that's always stuck with me."

She breathes, thinks of all the nights spent sleepless remembering every word, every sentence, every look, every touch, as if she could will her mother back to life with her thoughts, and then she thinks of Yon Rha, the hatred burning in her blood, the hollowness she'd seen in him, and the comforting weight of an unlikely friend behind her.

"Katara..."

Her eyes meet his, and she sees so much that it frightens her; brush strokes adorn the epiphany, filling it with deadly color—

She shakes her head, tries to dispel it. "My mother would say a good leader was someone who was one with their people, they didn't need extraordinary qualities, no. All they needed was to... _see_."

His eyes glint in the moonlight, focused on her and only her. She tries to imprint it on her mind, wishes and wills for it to stay etched in memory; indelible.

"And you, Zuko..." She reaches out, tells herself she can handle the tumults of her heart, and yet, hesitates as her hands hover over his chest.

She pulls the robe together, finally ties it around him.

"You have such a big heart, Zuko," she whispers, as she places her quivering hand over where it beats. She lifts her eyes. "You care about your people, you _see_ them, you want what's best for them. And when they see that, when they see who you really are, they are going to love you... so much."

There's a heartbeat of silence, of nothing yet everything at the same time.

(The days had worn on, and things had changed; her healing working, his nightmares stopping, the wounds healing, and them sleeping apart.)

His eyes flit across her face, and she starts to realize; the epiphany completes itself.

The world will see a new day tomorrow, a new beginning, and built on that will be the ending of _this;_ this tentative beautiful thing that she has somehow crafted with him. She starts to wonder if there's a choice, of not leaving him here, of not following Aang as he bridges the gaps, and closes the cracks across the world.

"Thank you, Katara," his voice comes from somewhere far away, his hands wrapping around hers gently; warm and calloused and heartbreaking.

She throws herself into his arms, can't bear to look at him anymore. He holds her steady, and—

She says it to herself but hopes that he hears too, and tries to reassure the part of her that refuses to agree.

"There will be time. We'll have time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, so that's that. This was my first time writing for any kind of Fandom Week, and oh man, what an experience! I'm strangely emotional as this comes to an end, because it took me through quite the journey.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, and especially the ones who left behind kudos and comments! Thank you so so much, I can't tell you how much your words mean to me.
> 
> (Also, you can find me on Tumblr if that's your thing [the-descension-inks](https://the-descension-inks.tumblr.com).)

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wanted to write two things. One, Zutara (because, honestly, who doesn't?) and two, reverse chronology. And this is what resulted.
> 
> I hope you liked reading this!


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